Page 72 of The Throne Seeker
She was rendered speechless. She looked at him, then back to the sword, receiving it with reverent hands. It was the most exquisite sword she had ever encountered, engraved with intricate swirls that glistened on the bronze hilt, along with a rose etched on each side. The slender blade was honed to lethal perfection and was, to her pleasant surprise, lighter than the one she’d been training with before.
“It’s made of the finest steel Vallor can offer, straight from the Spine mountains of Semaria,” Zareb stated, his gaze fixed on the blade. “It’s lighter than most, but it keeps its integrity even still.”
“It’s perfect,” she breathed. She slid the sword back into its sheath, and without warning, she stepped into him, throwing her arms around his neck and closing the gap between them. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.
He was rigid, of course, every one of his overly large muscles tense from the sudden display of affection. She was sure he’d only stand there awkwardly, but after a long moment, he slowly lifted his arms around her upper back, returning the gesture and squeezing her tightly into him. “You’re welcome,” he whispered back.
She let go, looking back down to the sword. “People will wonder where it came from,” she thought out loud, already thinking of multiple hiding places.
“I’ll keep it safe for you until the time is right and bring it for you to use during our training.” He strode over to his horse and drew his own sword. “Now let’s begin, or else we’ll be late for dinner, and your mother will have my head.”
CHAPTER 32
Zareb and Rose stayed in the fields until dusk, the sky splashed with a lovely blend of blue, pink, and orange that spanned the horizon. It was the kind of evening she’d loved as a child—the perfect time to catch fireflies while crickets chirped gently in the background. By the time they reached the castle, darkness had nearly settled in.
They had just entered the darkened halls when her mother appeared. “Rose! There you are. Where have you been?” she huffed, peering over Rose’s shoulder to glare at Zareb.
“We went for a…ride,” she explained, emphasizing what they hadactuallybeen doing. “What’s going on?”
Her mother pulled her arm, bringing her closer, peeking over her shoulder as if someone in the empty corridor could hear them. “The king and council have just called for a meeting for all the candidates. They’ve been waiting for you in the high council chambers.”
She began walking at once. “How long have they been waiting?”
“About an hour. I managed to buy you some time.”
“What’s the meeting for?”
“How should I know? No one bloody tells me what’s going on,” her mother said as they strode through the shadows of the torches. “I’m worried we are biting off more than we can chew. Are you sure you want to continue with the succession? You can always drop?—”
“Drop out and be tyrannized by a bunch of old men? No, I’m not going to give them the satisfaction.”
Perhaps that’s what the council wanted. Her triumph in the first challenge must have unsettled them. It got her thinking… What if the arrow had been intended for her instead? What if it hadn’t been Xavier in the trees, but an assassin hired to murder her? These were all questions she feared she’d not soon gain an answer to. Not without paying a steep price.
They reached the council chambers just as Grant appeared, coming from the opposite direction. He held the door open for her, allowing her to enter first, giving her a playful wink as she passed—ever the optimist. She refrained from an eye roll. Her mother and Zareb waited just outside as Grant shut the door behind him.
King Henrik, his council, and the contestants had gathered on the large red rug in the center of the room, creating a close-knit circle. The open windows let in the sea breeze behind them, forcing the torches to work overtime to avoid being snuffed out.
“Ah, here they are now,” the king said, nodding at her and Grant.
All heads turned to the pair, including Tristan’s, whose eyes skewered Grant as he remained beside her.
The king started by saying, “I know you’re all wondering if we have caught who was responsible for the attack. We scoured the entire forest, questioned everyone in attendance, and looked for any possible escape routes on the roads. But unfortunately, whoever was responsible escaped.”
Tension rippled in the air. The more she thought of it, the more the question begged how the man had even gained access to a black market commodity like Dragonshade. Given that dragons had been extinct for centuries, it shouldn’t even exist. It would have had to come from somewhere long forgotten to the north. But who would know where something like that was hidden?
“The good news is that Roman should make a swift recovery,” the king continued. His eyes flickered to her, still filled with gratitude. “But due to this unfortunate event, we have decided to move the second challenge to tomorrow.”
Their eyes grew wide. The next challenge? So soon? It was customary to have at least a week or so between. Tristan and Grant hadn’t even recovered from their wounds.
Lord Wellington stepped forward. “This next challenge will be a psychological challenge of sorts. Each of you will be questioned under the influence of the salvia lotus, to see if you are equipped to handle the mental strain that comes with the challenge of ruling.”
Rose fought a shiver—the salvia lotus, another black market item. The council must’ve paid a pretty penny to get their hands on a substance like that in Cathan. It was prohibited under any normal circumstance. Its effects were often considered unpredictable, which was exactly why they couldn’t use it for Xavier’s tribunal, or anyone else’s for that matter.
Xavier—he had likely ignited this challenge. They must be aiming to test whether the contestants would falter under pressure and if they could be manipulated, controlled. If she partook of the lotus, she’d be opening the floodgates of her mind to the high council.
Fear encroached upon her like a snake slithering up her leg. They would find out everything she’d worked so hard to keephidden—about her financial situation, about that night with her father, about everything.
She glanced at Lord Martin, whose beady eyes attempted to flush her weakness out. His smug face leered, glad to see fear planted on her own. No doubt it was him who had suggested this challenge in the first place.
